


The Protection of Darkness

by devylish



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devylish/pseuds/devylish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a response to the Gogetem BobcatLJ prompt to write a story with our characters Lost and in the dark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>older story being archived here at Aooo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught

 

And once again, Lamb had screwed things up for her.

Veronica held her body rigidly as she silently fumed. If he hadn't distracted her while she was working, they wouldn't be in this predicament.

She blew out a puff of air. Of course, HE was probably silently blaming _her_ for their situation. After all, she was the one who had decided to stake out Arthur Bowe's business headquarters. She smirked wryly, _IF you could call the parking lot of the 'Quick Liq' liquor store a headquarters._

She'd been chasing down leads on the supplier of some heavy-duty, nasty drugs that had been making it onto the campus in the last few months – drugs that were leaving students dead. Her research had led her to the rather innocuously named Arthur Bowe – drug distributor to the stupid and young.

Arthur, while not the creator of the drugs he sold, would definitely be a door to the creators.

And so, here she sat, on a Saturday night, or morning, depending on your feelings about 4:30 a.m., in her Saturn, on the corner of Blanco and Noir (yeah, the city planners hadn't been very inventive when it came to naming streets on this side of town). Actually, they hadn't been much of 'anything' when it came to this side of town. Ramshackle, half boarded up buildings littered the streets in any direction for about 7 blocks. If Neptune had a rundown, forgotten about area, then Greystown was it.

Veronica was attempting to keep a low profile, skulking low in her car seat, sitting a block and a half away from the parking lot that was apparently Arthur's main office (i.e. his car). She was attempting to keep a low profile, and doing a pretty good job of it, in her estimation that is, until her passenger door was pulled open and Don Lamb settled in beside her. His sudden, unexpected presence surprised her; although, when she thought about it, it really shouldn't. Lamb had gotten much better at keeping tabs on her the past few years. He was, finally, seemingly, gleaning a slight understanding about how her mind worked.

"Jesus, Lamb! Bell. Neck. You.... Look into it!"

"Good morning to you too, Sunshine." He reached under the seat and pushed the chair back to accommodate his long legs.

"Don't get comfortable. Get out."

"Not happening, Mars."

She tried a different tact; an innocent 'I'm-not-up-to-anything' tact. "What're you doing out and about in this part of town, Lamb? Actually seeing you in an area that might suffer from a little crime – so not expected!"

"Bitch."

"Asshole." She paused, "and now that we've played our little name game, I again say: get out."

"What part of 'not happening' don't you understand?"

She sighed. "Why are you in my car?"

"Why is your car in Greystown on a Saturday morning before even God is awake?"

She used the excuse she'd prepared to share with anyone who questioned her presence. "I'm studying the plight of lower income/forgotten members of society. Just wanted to get some pictures of the area, the people; for my journalism class."

"NNNNGGGGGHHHHHHTTTTT!" Lamb buzzed loudly, "Sorry, please try again. And this time, include some of the truth in your answer."

"Whhhaa –?" She started to argue with him when a tap at her window caught her attention, she turned her head to find the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her.

The gloved hand holding the gun motioned for her to lower the window, which, being the authority loving figure that she was, she did with only the smallest complaint. "Shit."

"You can say that again." Lamb mumbled as she lowered her window.

A thin voice, slightly muffled behind a ski mask, demanded: "All right, get out. Both of uz." Their masked captor backed up a bit but kept the gun leveled at her.

Veronica glanced at Lamb as she slid her hand to her seatbelt. His eyes were glued to hers and he didn't take them off until he had opened the passenger door and climbed out.

"Leave yer purse in da' car." The masked man ordered as Veronica casually tried to reach for her satchel.

 _Well there goes the taser and the cell phone._ She wondered if Lamb was carrying his gun with him. On a Saturday. His day off. At 430am. _Crap_.

With a quick glance up and down the street, their captor waved his gun at them and motioned for them both to head down the street; toward the Quick Liq parking lot.

 _Fuck! I'm never leaving my house without my gun again_! Lamb thought as they walked. Having no gun, he offered up a feeble verbal attempt to free them. "Look, mister, I don't know what you want. Or who you think we are, but my girl and I were just meeting up before heading back to my place. We don't want any trouble."

Masked Man remained silent until they all reached the deserted parking lot. Deserted except for the one car she'd been trailing/chasing after for the past couple of days. Arthur Bowe's. She hated it when the people she was trying to catch caught her instead. It always made for a bad day.

Once they reached the car 'Arthur' spoke again, "Okay stop."

He tossed a single key at them which Veronica caught. With a flourish of his gun, he motioned for her to open the trunk.

 _Crap. Not good. Think, Mars_. Her hands shook ever so slightly as she turned the key in the lock. _You could toss the key away, but_ , she glanced back at Bowe, _he still has a gun, and trunks are really only convenient for hiding bodies in. Guns are for killing._ Not giving him access to the trunk wouldn't do much for their situation.

Standing aback after she had opened the behemoth of a trunk, she glanced at Bowe. He indicated she should toss the key back to him.

Giving it a soft lob she made certain the key landed a couple of feet away from him. Apparently, looks can be deceiving, because their captor didn't even flinch or attempt to collect the key. Instead, he reached into his lightweight dark jacket and pulled out something shiny. Shiny and silver.

Handcuffs. Two pairs.

Throwing one to Veronica, and the other set to Lamb, he ordered them to put them on.

"You know, silver really isn't my favorite color when it comes to jewelry."

"I couldz maybe give you something in the blood-red family." He lifted his gun a fraction.

" – on the other hand, a woman needs to learn to expand her horizons." Veronica slapped the metal links around her wrists."

"Good girl." He lifted his gaze to Don. "Now you pretty boy."

As Lamb placed one end of the bracelet around his right wrist, Bowe interrupted him. "Naw, naw! Put your arms **around** your girlfriend. We don't want her gettin' lonely now do we?"

"Look -."

"Sherriff, I don't have time for dis, it's gettin' bright out here. Put one arm over her shoulder and da other around her waist."

Bowe's use of Lamb's title didn't go unnoticed. Don just hoped that Bowe's knowledge that he was dealing with the local sheriff would deter him from doing anything really bad – like killing them.

Doing as he was told, Lamb stepped up behind Veronica and draped his right arm over her right shoulder.

"Like a pretzel. Yeah, dat's it."

Lamb bit back a retort as he slid his left hand underneath Veronica's shackled arms. Bringing his hands together he clicked the second cuff shut. _Jesus Christ I'm a sick bastard. Facing probable death and all my stupid mind can focus on now is how close I am to her. How small she is. How soft._

"Dhere! Dat's all right. Now get in." Bowe gestured with the gun again, pointing them toward the open trunk.

"No way! Not happening! I'm not getting in there." The words were out of Veronica's mouth before she could think.

"Iz she always dis much trouble?"

Lamb smiled darkly and bit out "Always." But even as he said the word, he tightened his arms around her, silently trying to reassure her. He'd made the connection between her panicked proclamation and her fear of small spaces. The fear that Aaron Echolls had helped create. He wasn't sure how long he'd been aware of this little phobia of hers, but he'd seen her in situations in the past few years that had driven the knowledge home for him.

Bowe looked back at Veronica. "I'm sure your boyfriend here would prefer not to be packaged wid dead weight whilst he's in da trunk, but if you prefer…?"

Veronica delivered a look that made most men she knew run in fear. Bowe laughed. She wound herself up to argue with him further, but Lamb tugged her closer to him and lowered his mouth to her ear. "You can do this Mars. We can do this. It'll be okay."

He could feel the tension seep out of her body and took the initiative to back them up to the mouth of the open trunk. Sitting himself on the edge of the bumper, he slid down into the trunk, edging Veronica in after him as gently as possible.

He curled into the hard, metal trunk and although Veronica could have conceivably stretched out almost fully, she was forced to curl her frame so that it was cupped by his. They shifted, uncomfortably for a few seconds – parts of their bodies touching and brushing against one another that had never been in contact before. She'd just settled her neck against his arm when Bowe leaned over their prone forms and reached up for the hood.

"Now make yerselves comfortable in dhere, we got a bits of a ride ahead of us." And with that he slammed the trunk shut, leaving them in darkness.

**tpod tpod tpod tpod tpod tpod**

So, yeah, once again, Lamb had screwed things up for her. Veronica held her body rigidly as she silently fumed. If he hadn't distracted her, Bowe wouldn't have been able to sneak up on her, and then he wouldn't have put a gun to her head, and most definitely, she wouldn't be stuck in the trunk of a car – with Lamb.

She took a calming breath. She hated being in small spaces. Small enclosed spaces. At least she wasn't hyperventilating this time; which, actually, was odd. She didn't even like getting into elevators anymore. Especially crowded elevators, and yet, here she was, uncomfortably squished next to the town idiot (Dick's face flashed through her mind) – okay, the heir to the throne of town idiocy – and she wasn't panicking.

Encaged with one Don Lamb in a small space, and she almost felt safe.

Almost.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. "So, do you have any idea where we are?

"The trunk of a yellow 1972 Cadillac."

"Hmm, and to think I've always thought you to be useless."

He chuckled and a small puff of his breath brushed against her ear.

"Do you have any idea where the aforementioned yellow 1972 Cadillac is?"

Lamb carefully tilted his arm and clicked a button on his watch – blue green light filled the cabin. "We've been traveling for roughly 20 minutes… east I think, so that puts us somewhere around Devon or maybe Shasta."

"Are there any bodies of water in Devon or Shasta big enough to, say, lose a Cadillac in?"

"Not a one. Desert towns. They don't even have enough water in them to lose the tires of a Cadillac in."

She sighed. "So what other horrible means of death could he have in mind for us?"

"There's always straight up suffocation."

Veronica lifted her arms, and consequently Lamb's, and ran her fingers over a series of small holes in the trunk. They were big enough to allow air in, and small rays of illumination. Not enough to make the space bright and lit, but big enough to make the darkness of the trunk less inky.

"Okay, so not suffocation. He could have a big hole in the ground to dump us in. Cover it up with earth…."

"New topic!" She stopped him and lowered her hand, tucking both of their arms back around her frame.

"How about we come up with a plan, Mars. An escape plan."

"Brilliant. You first."

"What!? Miss-Nancy-Drew-know-it-all doesn't have a blowtorch hidden in her pocket? A contingency plan to wiggle her way out of yet another dire situation?"

"I left my blowtorch in my purse back at my car." She responded dryly.

And again with the chuckle and small warm burst of breath against her skin – really, it was kind of irritating.

"This is YOUR fault you know."

Lamb lifted his head slightly, "My fault? You want to try that again?"

"Bowe recognized you 'Sheriff Lamb'. Not me. Ergo, if you weren't pestering me this morning, we wouldn't be in this predicament."

"So, you're not going to take any responsibility for being in Greystown to begin with? Or for, once again, sticking your nose into business that is most definitely not your business?"

"I hate to sound like a broken record again but: 'I was, once again, doing your job, Lamb. Staking out the bad guy, getting photos of the bad guy, you know… working'."

Lamb opened his mouth to tell Veronica about the tap his department had put on Bowe's phone a few weeks ago, but he paused as the car slowed and squealed to a stop. Feeling Veronica's quick intake of breath, he wrapped his arms a little closer around her. She was a perpetual pain in the ass, but he'd do whatever he could to prevent her being hurt. Protection, that was his job after all.

They both felt the subtle rocking of the car, and then heard the slam of a car door. They could make out the faint sound of footsteps against gravel, and then, the sound stopped. Just outside the back of the car.

Two loud thumps on the metal hood made them both jump.

"Alrights uz twos. You just stay nice and cozy in dhere for a while. I'll make a call in a few hours and let someone know you're here. Until den, don't do nuthin' I wouldn't doos." Bowe laughed and began to whistle as he walked away. _Now all he needed to do is catch a cab, and head to the airport. He hadn't planned to go to the Caymans for another couple of weeks, but sight of the Sheriff this morning had moved his plans up a bit. He'd be in the lap of luxury in a few hours. Him, the quarter million he'd saved up, and his big beautiful queen, LaSheena._

Bowes walked down a side street in Shasta CA, rubbing his hands together happily as he headed off to his new life. And out of Neptune for good.

**tpod tpod tpod tpod tpod tpod**

 

 

Lamb couldn't believe his luck. Their luck. "Christ Mars! How do you do it!?"

"Do what?" She responded numbly, she was still in shock. _Would Bowe really 'call someone' and have them released in a few hours?_

"Wiggle your way out of every fucking bad situation that comes your way."

A little bit of euphoria seeped into her bones. "What? You can't see my magic force field? Bullets, knives, and bad men just bounce right off? Can't get within 2 feet of me!"

He smiled at her gleeful tone. And then the words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. "See, I told you **I'm** not a bad man – I'm definitely inside that 2 foot zone."

She was suddenly aware of his hands, one curled at her waist, the other on her hip. And she was suddenly very aware of his whole frame, larger than hers, firmer than hers, pressed against hers. And then, there was his damn breath gracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. She was super, hyper, extensively 'aware'. And she was silent.

Lamb half expected Mars to pinch him, or elbow him, or somehow or other attempt to maim him. But he wasn't expecting silence. Mars didn't do silence. She did glib remarks, biting remarks, attacking remarks. She did all of that, but not silence. Her silence spoke in ways her words never did.

The slight clink of silver chains was the only sound that he made as he smoothed his hand along the curve of her hip.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wanted to talk to her. To tell her he was sorry for being such a jerk to her for the past seven years. To tell her that he was sorry that she'd been hurt by him, and by others. To tell her that he wouldn't hurt her again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wanted to talk to her. But he was afraid to break the silence. Blessed silence.

Veronica held her breath; scared to make a sound. Afraid to disturb the warmth that was suddenly surrounding her, suddenly melting through her nerve endings. Dreams of Lamb touching her flitted though her mind. Dreams she hadn't had since she was a pubescent girl, blushing and teasing her father's deputy. Dreams she hadn't dared to think about in years.

Suddenly his warm breath left her cheek and she could feel his head nuzzling lower against her until his lips brushed her neck.

 _Don Lamb's lips are touching my neck. Was it a mistake?_ And then they moved against her skin again. A kiss? A caress?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should be rigid, fighting, struggling against him – against this 'whatever this was' – but instead, she was dissolving, melting. She stretched her neck, tilting her head backward a bit, giving him further access to the sensitive skin at her throat.

That little head tilt was all Lamb needed, the only encouragement his mind needed to completely shut off and give in to the dreams he'd had. And it was appropriate in many ways. Those dreams of her and him, together, coupled, only came to him at night. In the midst of darkness. It was appropriate that now, with her body pressed against his, in the dark, that his dreams would surface and take over.

He trailed his left hand back up over the curve of her hip, letting his fingers curl under the hem of her shirt to trace the human silk that lay beneath.

Veronica's stomach muscles tightened beneath his fingers; an involuntary reaction to touch and pleasure. And it was pleasure. Veronica's body was suddenly on edge, anticipating heat and delicious bliss. It was rare for her to turn off her thoughts, to give in totally and completely to what her emotions and body wanted. It was very rare. But here she was; alone in the dark with an ex-friend. And she was giving in – totally and completely.

He momentarily stopped his tender ministrations when he felt her tentative touch on his hand, but when she soothed her fingers along the back of his hand, the fleeting tension in his body faded away. He traced a finger along her navel and smiled at the soft hitch in her breathing.

Sheer and utter madness. She knew this was insane. She knew she'd probably regret this moment as soon as it had passed. But it hadn't passed, not yet. She was lost, in the dark, with Lamb, and she was reveling in the sensations.

Applying pressure, Veronica slid their joined hands down to the edge of her jeans, her back curved against his chest and she felt the burgeoning, hard, proof of his interest in their activities.

Lamb took her cue and deftly unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, groaning quietly as her ass pressed against him. Dipping his fingers beneath the supple denim he encountered the thin cotton of her panties. Taking a breath, he edged his fingers beneath the elastic.

A soft curse fell from Veronica's lips as Lamb's fingers delved downwards. She slowly raised her left leg, coiling it over his thighs, giving him easier access to the heat that lay between her legs.

His index fingers skimmed along the trimmed covering of soft curls before taking advantage of the moist warmth that was being offered to him.

His mouth nibbled at the soft skin that graced the column of her neck. Salt and sugar greeted his lips. And that was Veronica all over, sweet and bitter, soft curves and hard edges, ice cold queen and scorching hot seductress.

....  She was especially scorching hot between her thighs.

As first one and then another finger slid into her, he stroked his thumb against the tight little collection of nerves. She arched against his hand seemingly desperate for more contact. Within seconds, his fingers were slicked in her wetness, coated in the arousal that he was slowly drowning in the scent of.

Tilting her head to the side she let her lips sweep across his forehead, a move that shocked him more than her parting her legs for him had. He lifted his head in the faint grey of the trunk and peered into her eyes before pressing his lips to hers.

It was a soft kiss. A kiss protected by darkness; they both knew that the light of day would destroy the delicate web of understanding that was being weaved between them.

As he nipped at her lower lip, teasing it with his tongue and his teeth, Lamb curled his fingers upwards as he stroked into her. She arched against his hand; her body echoing the strokes of his fingers.

They were connected, at the lips, at her center, for minutes – with Lamb bringing her just to the edge, then pulling her back, time after time. It wasn't until she'd reached the peak, once again, and whispered his name, that he finally pressed his thumb against her clit as his fingers curved inside of her. The simultaneous, continual pressure of his questing fingers finally sent her over the edge; into the promised delicious bliss.

Don withdrew his hand from between Veronica's legs, wishing he was strong enough to break free of the manacles on his wrists. Wishing that he could lift his hand to his lips and taste her essence.

He settled for bringing his head closer to hers, and looking into her eyes in the dim, dim light.

As she faded back to reality Veronica's eyes fluttered open, and in the faint grey of the car trunk she saw the shadow of Lamb's face, staring down at her. She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't know if there **was** anything to say. So she simply smiled, hoping he could see it, and that it would be enough.

Shifting back onto her side, Veronica closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Don Lamb breathing.

 

tpod tpod tpod tpod tpod tpod

 

"Hello!"

Veronica and Lamb woke with a start, both of them moaning at the cramps raging through their limbs.

"Hello!"

A voice was calling to them from outside of the car.

They raised their hands in tandem to hit the hood and yelled out.

"In here!"

"We're in here!"

"Help!"

"They're in this one. Over here boys."

A minute or two later, and a drill bit broke through the car lock, and the hood was lifted.

Sunlight poured down on Veronica and Lamb, curving around and over the three figures of the Shasta sheriff's officers who peered down at them.

"Well what do you know? It wasn't a prank call." One of them said.

"Welcome to Shasta. Boys someone get those cuffs off of our visitors, then let's get them down to the department for a little chat." As he spoke, the sheriff, moved away from the car, letting his 'boys' take care of the 'visitors'.

Within seconds, the officers were moving, and talking, and disconnecting Lamb and Veronica. As they helped them climb out of the cramped space, Veronica and Lamb both blinked at the sunlight that pushed against their eyes.

Through the din, and the light, and the cramped legs, Veronica and Lamb studiously avoided looking at one another. That is, they avoided looking at one another until they both heard, over and around the din, the sound of the sheriff singing softly: _I once was lost, but now am found… was blind, but now I see…._

 


	2. Peace of Heaven and Hell

She saw him everywhere.

During daylight hours, Don Lamb was like Veronica's shadow. He was at the grocery store in the middle of the morning when she was shopping, he was at the post office when she picked up Mars Investigations mail, he was at the coffee shop when she stopped for drinks.

Her days were filled with his presence.

And she had found, during the last week that she couldn't even escape him at night. Ever since he'd touched her - since she'd let him touch her - she'd been unable to escape him; he was there in the dark of the night with her. In her dreams.

Veronica was a normal girl. Well, she was normal-ish. She'd experienced sexual dreams before. She was no stranger to waking up in a sweat after an intense almost orgasmic dream. But this - these dreams that were filled with images of Lamb? - they… they were too much. There was no 'almost orgasmic' to these dreams; they were full fledged, all out 'O!' dreams. And the fact that they were made up of Lamb skinned goodness… oh, that was so bad.

The only respite she had these days came from the fact that when she saw Lamb during the day, they didn't talk to one another. He'd glance at her from the other end of the aisle at the grocery store, he would watch her from his squad car as she walked into the post office, he would hold the door open for her and all of the other women entering the coffee shop, but he didn't speak to her. So even though she was being tortured by his presence, she was happy that she had been temporarily saved from the bitter embarrassment that she knew was lurking somewhere around the corner. The embarrassment of looking Lamb in the eye and knowing that he had the power to make her… erh… umm… CRAP!, she couldn't even say the word in her own head! How was she ever going to be able to knowingly face him – look him in the eyes – and talk about his idiocy? Or talk about his incompetency? No matter what she said to him, it would be there, in his eyes, the knowledge that he wasn't a complete idiot. He wasn't completely incompetent. He had the power and the knowledge to make her… her….

'Oh just say the damn word Veronica! Orgasm. Don Lamb has the competency and the knowledge to make you orgasm. In real life AND in your dreams.'

With a moan of frustration she opened her car door, slipped the leash onto Backups collar, and let him out of the car. She'd had a long day at the office and had decided to come out to the beach to relax; bringing Backup up with her for 'single young woman' protection... the sun was still shining, but in another hour or so, it would disappear behind the horizon.

She walked around aimlessly for about fifteen minutes, letting her mind wander free. It felt good to think about absolutely nothing. Dropping Backup's leash, she settled onto the sand and watched the waves break against the shore. As she reached up and pulled her hair out of the ponytail she'd thrown it into that morning, her shadow appeared.

"I could fine you for breaking city ordinances."

She didn't look up at him. "It's against city ordinances to wear my hair down?"

"Backup's running loose." Lamb took a seat on the sand beside her.

Out of the corner of her eye Veronica noted that he was out of uniform; he was wearing a light blue t-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. 'Great, now I'll be able to have non-uniform focused dreams about him', she groaned inwardly. "He's technically still on his leash."

"Smart-ass."

"And proud of it."

They faded into silence. Her sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. And him barefooted with his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles.

They sat that way for minutes… minutes on top of minutes; watching the sun set beyond the horizon. Backup, finally tired of his leashed freedom, bounded back to Veronica and Lamb. Circling the area of sand by Lamb's legs, he settled on his haunches then laid his head on Lamb's ankles, his tail swiping casually, lovingly, against Veronica's toes. 'Traitor,' Veronica thought as Backup licked Lamb's foot before giving a deep sigh of replete peace. 'Well at least one of us is at peace.'

Veronica dug her hands in the sand, sifting the warm granules through her fingers as she studied the orange and purple and red sunset. As darkness fell over them she realized she still hadn't looked him in the eyes. Still hadn't directly faced Lamb. She'd been a chicken for the past week. And she hated being a chicken. She hated not being in control of situations.  She hated that Lamb had this power over her, this… I-made-you-cum power. Maybe if she faced it. Stared it down, she'd be able sleep. Uninterrupted sleep. Peaceful sleep. Lamb-free sleep.

Taking a deep, silent breath Veronica curved her legs to the side, turning to face Lamb.

TPOD

Don tensed ever so slightly as he realized that Veronica had shifted and was looking at him. _What now? Should he look at her? Talk to her? Apologize for taking advantage of her?_

'Fuck!' He should never have sat down next to her. He still didn't know exactly why he'd done so; other than some sort of twisted desire to make himself suffer more than he had been.

God apparently had it out for Lamb. Not that he hadn't already known that, but this week had proven it to him. The past week had been a sort of a hell for him. He'd seen Veronica more often in the last six days than he had in the past three months combined. She was everywhere. The store, the café, the post office. And here, today, at the beach. Why the fuck he was forced to keep seeing her now; now when he knew what she felt like, what she tasted like. Now when he knew that he couldn't touch her again. Couldn't taste her again.

Yeah, his life was a living hell.

He hadn't been able to avoid her during the day. And he most definitely hadn't been able to avoid her during the night. His cock hardened almost as soon as his head hit his pillow at night; in seeming preparation for the dreams that it knew were coming. The honey sweet, musk,y flower scented dreams that attacked his sleep starved nights almost before his eyes closed. He hadn't had a quiet, calm slumber since, well…, since just after he'd been knuckle deep in Veronica's warmth.

Peace and relaxation had been Don's goal today; relaxation was why, late on a Friday evening, he had headed out to Neptune beach. He had, up until that point that day, managed to avoid Veronica, and he was almost positive that the beach would be a safe respite for him. Chances were in his favor that she wouldn't be anywhere near the beach; not this late. Not on a Friday. Surely she'd be off on a date somewhere, twisting some lucky young bastard around her little finger.

Well yeah, like he said, Don was pretty certain that God had it out for him. That was the only explanation for his rounding an outcrop of rocks on the beach and seeing the familiar slender figure of Veronica Mars.

He'd almost turned away, fleeing to the 'saftey' of his car.

He'd almost turned away. But instead, he had moved closer, drawn to Veronica Mars as he had always been drawn to her. Thoughts of the 'moth to the fucking flame' flitted through his mind as he dropped onto the sand at her side. The thoughts were tempered with his realization that he needed to apologize to her. To make things right. To bring them back to the state of shared dislike that they'd so long enjoyed. Dislike was infinitely better than the insecure, hyperintensive awareness that he was currently drowning in.

And now SHE'D taken the first step. She'd turned to face him. 'Suck it up, Lamb. Apologize, and get it the fuck over with.' Don opened his mouth to speak, slowly lifting his head to look in her direction when he was stunned back into silence by her movement closer to him. Her movement over him.

**TPOD**

Veronica kneeled next to Lamb for half a second before she quickly clambered her way up and over him; moving until she was straddling his hips. Lowering her weight onto his frame, her thighs hugging his hips, she braced her hands against his shoulders.

Don groaned in spite of himself as Veronica pressed against him. . . His life was a living hell... that, or he had been sent directly to heaven. Lamb couldn't quite decide which assumption was the most likely. Could heaven and hell exist in the same place at the same time?

As Veronica ground against his quickly hardening cock, he knew the answer was yes. Heaven and hell swirled around Veronica and himself at this very moment.

His fingers dug into the sand as his arms locked behind him, bracing to hold their combined body weight. He lifted his eyes to try and find hers'. In the faded sunlight, the seconds just before day became night, he could barely see them. The blue that normally was so startling present in her eyes was, at this moment, darkened to an almost black blue. A shade of blue that hid her pupils from his view. And as she rocked her hips against his, she ducked her head lower allowing a blonde veil of hair to cover her face, hiding all but her pink lips from his view.

Veronica kept a slow steady pace as she moved against Lamb, sliding her bikini covered, but increasingly slick, center against the hard length of him. And 'hard' and 'length' were definitely appropriate words when it came to Lamb. As she edged her way back down along his cock, Veronica pushed against his shoulders, increasing the friction between their bodies. She concentrated on creating a rhythm that would… speak to him. To his body. Her fear of talking to him was still there. But her desire to have revenge. Her desire to reassert her power over him. Her desire…

Her desire wouldn't be denied, and **that** spoke to him.

Don groaned again, his hips lifting in quick jutting, rutting motions, trying to get closer and deeper… into her.

As the sky turned midnight blue, they found a rhythm that spoke to them both. Together, they found a rhythm that: gave and took from them both.

Heaven was up. Hell was down.

Heaven was up.

Hell was down.

Heaven was…

Hell was…

Heaven…

Hell….

Lamb roared her name as he came; his arms collapsing into the sand, pushing her sensitive center against his equally sensitive member.

"Fuck me." He whispered softly as he freed his hand from the sand and buried it again, this time in the hair at the back of Veronica's skull. Pulling her head down to his he captured her lips in a sated, luxuriating kiss. He nibbled at her lips until he needed to breathe, then he dropped his head back on to the sand and gasped for air, all of his strength apparently seeping out of his body with the cum he'd released.

Veronica lowered her head to Lamb's chest. Listening to his breathing slow down, feeling his arms loosen into heavy, strong weights against her waist. She listened to his breath, felt his arms, and she waited for her body to stop aching for him. Waited for the return of her power.

 


	3. Deluge, Drought and Ylang Ylang

**TPOD**

In some parts of the world, deluges are intimately, immediately, followed by drought. The rains fall, and the sky shifts from black and grey to blue.  Piercing, startling blue. They become blue and cloudless save for the only ornament that could grace that azure space: the golden sun. After the deluges the sun scorches, and burns, and pummels both people and land, making them long for the overabundant rains that they so recently cursed.

Deluge to drought.

Yeah, it's funny how you miss the rain when you have none.

**TPOD**

It had been two weeks since the whole 'bizarreness at the beach' moment, and three weeks since the 'travesty in the trunk' incident. Yeah, she'd named the events. Named them. Mulled over them. Studied them. Dissected them… She'd even dreamed about them. Unbelievably, hot, sexy, intense dreams. Dreams that involved herself and Lamb tucked under the cover of darkness, under the cover of night. Dreams of his hands, his body, his breath… his presence.

Oddly enough, one of the worst things about the dreams was the feelings she experienced when she inevitably woke up from dreamland. Woke up and remembered that the air she'd been breathing in her imaginings belonged to Lamb. Remembered that the warmth she'd felt, belonged to Lamb. Don Lamb. The biggest crush and the biggest heartbreak she had ever experienced.

She guessed that admission would surprise some people.

Most people.

Okay…, everyone.

If she dared to admit it to herself, it would surprise even her. But, Lamb had been her first. Her first prince; her first dream of ever after. And then, like most little girls, she'd learned that the princes of the world only existed in fairytales. Men, real men, like Don Lamb were mortal. Human.

Apparently, Veronica didn't deal well with humans. They were far too fallible for her liking.

Too bad they populated her world so entirely.

Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Veronica looked up at the cloudless Neptune sky. Her eyes focused on the sun for a few seconds before they closed themselves in self-preservation. She watched the afterimage of the sun from behind her lids. The yellow fading to orange, fading to red, then violet, and finally falling into black.

It was sad, really, how much she missed his lurking. Nine years of having him: not close enough, irritatingly close, then, intimately close, and now, she was back full circle. Or, actually, worse than full circle; she'd felt him now. Been touched by him. Having something you've known taken from you, was infinitely worse than being distanced from something you've only seen or dreamed of.

Infinitely worse.

**TPOD**

Don lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it quietly 'whir, whir, whir, thumped'.

His mind was empty. Purposefully empty. He wasn't thinking of work, or Neptune's social calendar..., or her. He definitely wasn't thinking about her.

No images of silken blonde locks - shifting through his fingers, tracing over his hand - teased him. No memories of sparkling blue eyes - mocking, teasing, tempting - haunted him. No, his mind was empty; filled only with the whir, whir, whir, thump of the fan.

As the air circulated through the room, he refused to allow himself to think about the scents of: the child, the woman-child, the woman, who had filled his senses for so many years. He didn't smell the almond-vanilla of her shampoo. Or the jasmine and ylang-ylang of her perfume. And he definitely didn't smell the traces of musk-lust-heat that poured out of her at his touch.

Whir, whir, whir, thump.

If he thought about it, which he wouldn't, he would realize he hadn't seen her in two weeks. A record. Normally, they couldn't avoid one another no matter how hard they tried. Normally, he wasn't as lucky as he'd been the past couple of weeks. Yeah, two whole weeks of luck.

If he was thinking; if his mind was filled with thoughts of her, he'd be in trouble. He'd be in trouble, and these last two weeks would have been shit-filled, tormenting weeks.

Thank God his mind was empty.

Thank God he wasn't plagued with thoughts of Veronica Mars.

Whir, whir, whir, thump.

**TPOD**

Pacing helped mildly. Just the smallest bit. And it was more the expenditure of energy that was 'doing the trick'. The use of those tiny neurons and synapses that made his legs move, his feet lift, his arms swing.

It was a small thing. A small something. But he'd take anything at this point; at 9:03pm on a Friday night. Friday the 13th to be exact. And at this point, Lamb was pretty damn certain that he was about to go insane. He hadn't felt this out of control… this fucking crazy, since he was a teen. A juvenile, girl-crazy, horny teen. And Veronica Mars was bringing the insanity out in him. Now! Here it was, decade after he'd left his teens and he was in the same – no, a worse – state; because now, now, damn-it, he'd put his hands…, he'd tasted…, he'd fucking been unable to get her out of his mind.

Anxiety, nerves, lust, anger, all of it was roiling around in his gut and he was pretty certain that the only fucking thing that would stop the churning maelstrom would be action. He either went after her and… and tried to figure out how to stop being a sniveling pubescent around her, or he needed to get a lobotomy - for both of his heads.

Sex was an action of the body and of the mind; don't let anyone tell you it wasn't. It could occur when just your body was 'there', but it also could occur when just your mind was 'there'. Imagine what happened when BOTH body and mind were present, engaged, and plugged in. And Lamb knew, after two fucking whole weeks, that his mind was there; sexing Veronica Mars up and down, side to side, in and out. His body was just looking for its turn.

FUCK!

He glanced at the clock again 9:05. Taking in a small breath he puffed it out and –

Knock knock knock knock.

**TPOD**

Crazy. This is Crazy. Insane. Stupid... Wrong! It's ohhhhhhhh so wrong! Wrong in ways that haven't even been created yet. Veronica was climbing the steps to Don Lamb's place for the fifth time in as many minutes. She'd get close, and then she'd turn and walk back away. And then she'd get her stupid nerve back up, and turn back around and head up the steps again.

Her mind was fighting with itself, and tormenting her with its indecision. Go see him, find away to get him out of your system, or out of your city… state, or, or yeah… her mind even suggested, once or twice, that she talk to him. Chat with him about the little situations they kept finding themselves in.

"Yeah, cuz chatting is all I really want to do." Veronica muttered to herself. Chatting didn't require shaving your legs (or other body parts). And chatting didn't require wearing your favorite perfume, or putting on your favorite, sexiest pair of jeans, or the blue top that fit oh-so-right. And chatting definitely didn't require that you wear your most expensive, least practical, pair of heels.

That chatting doesn't require that you wear a baby-blue satin and lace bra and boy-short set, goes without saying… doesn't it?

Veronica paused outside of his door, raised her hand, took a small breath, puffed it out and:

Knock knock knock knock.

**TPOD**

"Mars?!" His voice registered his surprise.

"Quick! Extra points if you can identify which Mars." She responded trying to hide the nerves that were jangling inside of her.

Jasmine and Ylang-Ylang. He could smell it. Smell her. Shifting uncomfortably he eyed her lithe form and wondered how the little girl he'd known and adored and been amused by, had turned into such a fucking delicious, and definitive woman.

In the silence, she fell back on the taunting and teasing that he brought out of her so easily. Teasing was normal. "See, this is the point where normal people would invite their visitors in."

He leaned against the doorframe and continued to study her face, her clothes, her body, "Why are you here Mars?"

"Really? No 'hello'? No 'hi, how's it going'? I thought you had at least a modicum of social grace."

"Social graces are reserved for social visitors." He took a deep breath... vanilla-almond, "Unless, of course, you're saying that this is a social visit. If that's the case," rolling his body out of the way, he stood back, "be my guest."

"I'm not interrupting am I?" Her nerves returned full force as she passed within inches of him, crossing the threshold. Lamb-land had been entered; she'd taken the first/last step.

"Would you care?" He closed and locked the door behind her, never letting his eyes leave her body.

Deciding to bite the bullet, Veronica turned around and faced him. "So… where've you been for the last couple of weeks?"

She'd noticed he wasn't around? "Doing my job, being the Sheriff of this great city." He stepped further into the apartment; and closer to her, "Miss me?"

"You're kind of like that mangy neighborhood dog that you mistakenly feed once, and can never shake after that. When he turns up missing, you… you just wonder who he's pestering now."

Lamb stepped even closer, invading her personal space. "Maybe you even wonder who's feeding him now?"

"It… it's a really bad idea for people to feed dogs they don't know." _Tall. He was so tall, and substantial. And he smelled like mint; mint and spices_. "Mangy dogs."

"Because they might bite?" He was inches away from her, and they were breathing the same air again. Their air.

"Or," she was reading his eyes. His blue, blue eyes. There were no clouds in them, but there was no sun either. Just the darkness of his pupils, surrounded by open blueness. "Or, they might give you fleas." She lifted her hand to his chest, just placing her palm against the curve of his pec.

"Fleas would not be good." Lamb snaked his arm around her waist.

"Fleas bad." She echoed faintly as he pulled her flush to his body.

"If it helps at all, I took a shower today." He lowered his head to hers slowly. Slowly enough for her to answer him.

"Oh, yeah. That definitely helps; makes everything all better."

And then they were breathing. Not air. Just one another. Breathing, and tasting, and touching; speaking without words. And all of those wonderful scents: Jasmine, and mint, vanilla-almond, ylang-ylang and spice, all of them curved in and around them. Weaving a heady magic around both of them.


	4. Missing Scene

Lamb placed his free hand at the crook of Veronica's neck, using it to help him nestle her closer. This face-to-face, waist-to-waist, was so much better than the confining nearness of the trunk. And as she tugged the t-shirt he was wearing out of the waist of his jeans, he realized that what they were doing now was looking to be far less frustrating than the jean to jean action on the beach.

Pulling away from her lips and raising his hands so that they could get the his shirt up and off, Lamb immediately dipped back in reclaiming her lips as he felt her hands pass over his chest. Her hands were small and cool, but they left a large, heated trail across his body wherever they touched him. And they were now touching his abdomen, playing at the rippled planes of his stomach.

Veronica wasn't into muscles. She wasn't into guys who blew their bodies up to the size of the hulk or anything like that. But she did appreciate this. Lean, firm, beautiful hardness that led to – her hands slipped to the button and zipper at the top of Lamb's jeans – even more firm, beautiful hardness.

"How do you always manage to smell so good?" Lamb murmured aloud as he traced his lips along her jaw, nibbling and nipping his way down to her neck.

She made a fleeting mental note to buy more of her favorite perfume tomorrow. "You like?"

"It drives me crazy." His head was buried in the crook of her neck, his nose in her hair, his mouth at her pulse. Tasting her neck with his tongue, he sucked at it and pulled it into his mouth. "It's always driven me crazy."

"So my perfume is, uhh, yeah, wow, umm, to blame for your mental deficiencies?" She teased him gently.

"You should never pick on the man who has the power to give you a hickey." Lamb smiled against her neck then groaned as she slid her hands into his open jeans.

Tucking her own lips into his neck Veronica grinned, "Tit for tat, Lamb."

"The sheriff of Neptune can't have a hickey, Mars." He exhaled as she echoed, on his neck, the moves he was making along her throat.

She lowered her mouth to his collar bone and slipped her fingers under the waistband of his boxers. As she wrapped her hand around his warm length, she whispered against his skin, "How about I put your hickey someplace special?" Veronica felt him surge in her hand, reacting to both her touch and her words. "Mmmmm, I think you like that idea."

"At this moment," His voice deepened as pleasure shot through him, "Shit, ummm, I'm," He lifted his hand from her hip to her breast, "I'm more than happy to say that I think any idea you have is  **great**."

She giggled then moaned as she felt his thumb flick across her nipple. "And it only took me threatening to give you a hickey to get you to admit that huh?"

Veronica raised her hands to the top of Lamb's jeans and began to tug at them. _Damn jeans. Damn in-the-way jeans._

"A hickey in a special place, Veronica. A special place." He released her again and took control of the pants removal task.

Within seconds he stood, a few feet away from her, buck-naked; with a smile, a smile spurred by the fact that Veronica's jaw was hanging open. "Close your mouth Mars, and come to papa."

She grinned and peeled off her top as she moved toward him, "You know, I'm seeing your lips move, but all I'm hearing is 'bowww chicka bowww wowwww'."

He pulled her close, "And here I was thinking that I was the only one who heard that sound."


	5. Epilogue

"It's not like you really need to introduce me to him. I mean, he knows me, Mars." Her last name was a habit he didn't think he would ever grow out of. Just like she would, seemingly, never grow out of calling him Lamb. Mars fit her. To a T. Although, he did use 'Veronica' when he was laying down the law. _You're taking the taser with you Veronica and that's final!_ He also called her 'Veronica' when she was being soft and vulnerable around him; during the times when she was willingly allowing him to protect her – to hold her close against the ravages of day and night.

"He knows you as Deputy Lamb – twit in training. And as Sheriff Lamb – certified pain in the ass. I want him to know you as Don Lamb, the guy who holds doors open for me, and who buys me stupid 'I've been thinking about you' gifts for no reason." She rubbed her thumb along the back of Lamb's hand. "And I want him to know you as the man who holds me in his arms every night."

"I think your dad would be _fine_ without know that last part."

"Too bad! That's MY favorite part of the Don Lamb-deal." She paused, "You know, I never really thought you were such a chicken, babe."

"I'm not a chicken. I'm just wise. I know your dad is going to want to kick my ass for looking in your direction, much less for pointing my cock in your direction.

Veronica laughed, "My dad and I are just going to have to agree to disagree on this point, cuz, I'm also rather fond of the 'dick' part of the Don Lamb-deal." She put her hand on his thigh; semi soothingly, semi seductively.

"So I'd noticed," he read the faint look in her eyes and captured her hand, preventing it from wandering north.  "And, uh, 'no way, Mars'. No way I'm going into your dad's with a hard on."

"You're no fun."

"That's NOT what you said last night."

"Last night you were fun!"

"I'll be fun again after dinner; when we get back home…. If your dad hasn't shot my dick off."

Home. His apartment had become a home for them. One month into… into whatever this thing between them was and she'd become a part of his life.  Unexpectedly, quietly, unobstrusively, she'd become an indispensible part of his life.   He'd slid open his closet door the other night and found little pink and baby blue t-shirts; skirts, jeans and heels residing in one half of his closet and he'd been blown away. Quietly, elatedly, and completely blown away.

They were both pretty quiet about the 'thing' between them.

Nothing was actually ever said by either of them regarding the fact that Veronica and he were living together, or the fact that they were most definitely a couple.

That's part of the reason why her invitation to eat at her dad's was such a big event. Veronica and Don, out of the closet. Out of the dark and into the light. Right out there in full view of her dad and the whole world. Were they ready?

As if reading his mind, Veronica squeezed his hand then said lightly, "We need to do this. We **can** do this. We're wearing our big girl and big boy pants today."

"Do we **really** have to do this?"

"Dad's spent two month's progressively, and increasingly loudly mumbling about how much he misses doing my laundry." She raised a brow. "It's his way of telling me he misses me. He's using the Mars' subtlety to hint that he wants to know 'why' I'm not sleeping in my own bed."

"Can't we just leave him a note? Then move to Oregon, or Nevada. Or someplace NOT within sighting distance of his guns?"

Life for Veronica and Lamb would never be easy. He would always try and protect her more than she wanted to be protected. And she would always leap without looking. He would always know her mind was quicker and more analytical than his. And she would always know he was stronger than her; physically stronger – a safety zone she never knew she needed. He would always know she was more fragile than she let on. While she would always know he was softer than he let on.

They would always know.

Hell, they had probably always known.

That knowledge didn't make 'them' easier. It made them harder. BUT, the knowledge also made them **better**. Stronger. More complete. Ignoring it hadn't worked. And it would never work again. So Mars and Lamb had finally given in. Given in to the need they had to have one another in their lives. Folding their arms around one another. Keeping one another safe and whole.

"Tell you what, Lamb," Veronica opened her car door. "I'll protect you, if you protect me?"

As sunlight poured though the open door, haloing Veronica's face, Lamb took a deep breath. "Nice to know you need me, Mars." He opened his own car door and followed Veronica into the daylight.


End file.
